


In Our World

by stringsonthisguitar



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-18
Updated: 2018-08-18
Packaged: 2019-06-28 23:32:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15717345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stringsonthisguitar/pseuds/stringsonthisguitar
Summary: Mother says it is my duty—to marry and provide a future heir to a powerful kingdom. Carry on our legacy. But is it wrong not to want that life? To not desire all the things I was taught to appreciate and yearn for? To wish for love? An honest and true love that all the tales of the lands speak so highly of? I can’t even imagine what it would feel like to have a love such as that. I sit alone on this terrace at night and look to the heavens … pondering about how my life might have been different. Yearning for that life despite its impossible nature. I just wish so much—so desperately to be loved. Am I wrong to wish of such things?”No. Emma wanted to say. No, you are not wrong to desire love. Everyone should have love and should be able to love freely.





	In Our World

**Author's Note:**

> Just a quick little story that popped into my head. It’s an AU fic that takes place in FTL. Just my own unique spin on things, I guess. Regardless, I hope you enjoy. This will be a 2-shot, so I hope to have the next chapter up shortly. Depending on the response to this story I could make it into a full-length story (that’s actually where I was going with it originally) so just let me know what you guys think.

In Our World

The hour was late, if going by the high moon outside her window held any indication. She had been relieved from her watch nearly four candle marks ago. But sleep could not find her, despite her body’s desperate need for it. Exhaustion clung to her form like a leech, slowly sucking away what energy remained. The past few days had been trying at best. Peace never seemed to find its home within the castle walls, but oh how she wished for it. Not for her own sake, you see, but for the sake of the one person deserving of it the most. She had seen the first of the marks just days after she began her watch nearly four summers ago, and fresh ones seemed to appear weekly. Whoever branded the poor young woman under her watch was skilled in their craft. Attentive enough to know when the body could take no more, but skillful enough to know how to cover his or her tracks. The physical marks themselves were barely visible to the naked and untrained eye, but she knew powerful magic when she saw it, and magic concealed the physical evidence. That and the princess’s carefully selected wardrobe.

With sad eyes, she gazed to her armor which rested on her mannequin. Her fresh change of underclothes brought a clean and herbal scent to her otherwise damp and dark room—the erratic flicker of the candle was her only light save the pale rays of the moon that shone through. She twisted the twin leather strings that fell loose from her collar between her fingers as her mind raced. Occasionally, her fingers would brush against the silver necklace she had worn for most of her adult life. She had no memories of how she came to possess the necklace, but it was a part of her she kept hidden, carefully concealed under her layers of clothing. A part of her she longed to forget yet always would remember. Otherwise, it might have drawn questions; questions that she didn’t want to relive. That was the thing with the past—it always haunted. Haunted and brought pain.  
But oh how her life had changed; from orphan, to thief, to huntsman, to personal guard of the Queen’s daughter. A peasant’s dream. She came from nothing, still had nothing, save her armor and name, but at the moment she was somebody—a person with a honored title.

Oh how she needed sleep. Tomorrow morning would come all too early and the day would be long as always, especially with Queen Cora’s unexpected departure to The White Kingdom. Preparations would start immediately: readying her horses and carriage, supplying both the Queen and her guards with rations, securing her numerous trucks filled to the brims with elaborate clothing only fit for a queen, sharpening the guards weapons … the list went on and on. All the while keeping watch and protecting the young princess. Yes, Emma’s day would certainly be long.

Shame, because she had actually looked forward to the morning’s light. Like every other day, the princess would take to the saddles, Emma along for ride, as they rode off to the fields in the east. The day would be spent riding, walking, and resting among the soft grasses as both women shared childish tales. It was one of only a few activities that the queen would allow her daughter to take part in.

Emma could already see the disappointment in the young woman’s eyes. One of the other high ranking guards would take over in her stead, and the princess didn’t trust many of them. Her activities would be cut short tomorrow, by her doing, as Emma occupied herself with departure duties. Oh the life of a high knight.

It was funny, indeed, that Emma found herself in such a life—enjoying and eagerly anticipating time with a royal watch—a princess no less. She’d always thought them spoiled, bratty, lazy, and quick-tempered. But Her Highness was anything but. Over the four summers Emma had spent as her guard—her protector, they had developed something of a close bond—a close friendship. Forbidden on most accounts. It was unbecoming of royalty to mingle with commoners, peasants, low-ranking guards, and even higher-ranking guards and knights. They were to be left along to their duties.

But Her Highness, Princess Regina was so, so different. The thought of the princess made Emma’s sleepy eyes lighten in the dark room and a smile to form across her face.  
But then there was a knock at her door, halting her thoughts. “Come in,” she said to the door.

It opened hesitantly, creaking, and a man appeared. “Lady Swan,” he began, bowing his head in greeting. “I know you’ve retired for the evening, but the princess has asked for you specifically.”

That got her attention fast. Her muddled mind suddenly cleared as she sat up and stood. “The Princess?” she asked bewildered, and he nodded in response. “Course, just give me a moment to dress,” she said as she motioned for him to fully enter and close the door.

Their prior etiquette ceased as the heavy wooden door closed.

Emerald eyes jerked over to her armor as she stumbled to it, stuffing her undershirt into her breeches, never paying mind to the man now standing in front of her closed door. She jammed her feet into her worn leather boots, slipped on her Pale Chainmail and began to piece together her prized Alabaster Steel armor. 

The man chuckled as he watched her struggle with her intricate breastplate, especially after cursing and finally securing her gauntlets. 

“Goddamnit Graham! Stop being an ass and help me with this breastplate would ya?”

Shaking his head fondly, he stepped forward and began work. “I hate these bastards,” he said. “But word is you’re to be gettin’ a squire soon, Swan. You won’t be dressin’ yourself anymore. Treated like the royalty we serve,” he said with a hearty laugh as his rough and clumsy hands secured her straps with practiced ease. 

“When did she get back to her chambers?” she asked, not invested in his talk but rather with the unusual request asked of her. Rarely did the princess ever lift her leave, but the few times she did, well, Emma came to dread her call. However, a part of her felt elated with the knowledge the princess chose her above all and was able to provide a sense of comfort and safety for her. 

“Shortly after ya took your leave. One of the chambermaids brought her back while I was on watch.”

Her hands frantically combed her long blonde hair back into a messy ponytail. “How was she?” she asked as her teeth remained clamped on a piece of string.  
“What’da mean?” he asked, his brows furrowed in confusion.

She dismissed his questioning glare as she finished tying up her hair and moved to her next clothing item. “Nothing,” she spoke as she pulled on her leather gloves and belted on her sword and dagger.

“Ya better be careful, Swan,” Graham said with a hard gaze. “I see it in your eyes—your compassion for her. And if I see it, others are sure to as well. That’s a dangerous game to play, for you both if that’s the case.”

She watched him, staring into his eyes, awaiting his next accusing words. They never came, but he seemed pleased as the emotions flitted across her face—all telling without her ever speaking a word.

“I don’t know what you speak of,” Emma said quickly as she reached for the handle of the door, but Graham blocked her exit. “I’m her personal guard, nothing more,” she began in irritation, “but my loyalty lies with her and her alone, and if I suspect someone’s hurting her, you best damn believe I’ll make it my mission to stop it regardless of what may befall me. She’s my priority.”

He shook his head in anger. Anger for what she didn’t fully know. He had always faulted those more privileged than him, especially those of nobility. Of course, who could necessarily blame him when a greedy and blood hungry king murdered his family and cursed him a werewolf as a lad for sick sport? Like Emma, he trusted very few and sought to viciously protect those in his circle. 

“You are nothing to them!” he hissed in a low whisper. “Don’t you see?! The way they look at us? We would fall on a sword for them, take an arrow for them, yet they look at us with such disgust and contempt! We are the dirt they tread upon, yet they still walk freely and without worry because of people like us. They’d think nothing of it to put your head on a pike, especially if anyone saw the affection in your eyes for the princess. I’d slay them all—”

“State your words carefully, Graham. If the wrong person were to hear, you’d face the sword or guillotine by dawn’s light, that I promise you. And it would be your head placed on a pike.”

At her gentle yet cold words, his eyes cleared and he stood straight, taking a few steps from her.

“I meant no disrespect, M’lady,” he stated, trying to fall back into their agreed formalities.

Emma smiled sadly and placed a reassuring hand on his armored arm. “You did, but these same people also have provided us a bed to lay our heads on, fresh meals to fill our bellies, fires to warm our cold bodies, and coin to spend on mead and women,” she added with a smirk. “They gave us purpose again, honorable purpose. We’re not thieves anymore. We’re guards to the Queen’s castle, Knights to the Summerlands. We came from nothing. Remember that.”

“Aye, M’lady.”

“Has Her Highness ever treated you with anything other than respect and fairness? Is she guilty of the accusations you voiced?”

“Not her, M’lady. I just …” he started, trying to form his thoughts and words carefully. Graham had a huge heart, but that often was his undoing. “You’re my friend, Emma. We’ve been through much together, and I know how these things end. I’ve seen the ugly side when people like us try to break tradition—break the rules set before us. Just don’t want to see you hurt, ‘tis all.”

“I appreciate that, Graham, and you are my friend as well. But never include the princess in your ill words again. She’s the very one who risked much to get you that silver band wrapped around your neck. Without her, your secret would have already been discovered, and you would have been the guard’s joy hunt next moon. Remember that.”  
Shamefaced, he nodded.

“Good, let’s go.”

They walked the deserted and drafty corridors trekking up stairs from the lower servant levels to the upper levels where the nobles resided. The upper stories were much more elaborate with rich runners running the length of the halls and sealed windows. Prized artwork of the Royal family and their descendents adorned the stone walls. The woven runners dampened the noise from their armor, making their approach less noticeable. An effect much more appreciated considering the late hour. It was best not to make their activities known, questioning minds often led to unjust accusations and reprimands. 

With a torch in hand, Graham stopped first at a large double wooden door, the only set of doors down the grand hall, and knocked thrice.

There was a short pause and then an answer. “You may enter,” came a voice from within. Emma smiled unconsciously at the familiar tone. 

Graham pushed opened the door at the right and took one step in. “Your Highness,” he began, taking a low, deep bow. “Lady Swan is here to see you,” he announced, his eyes never once looking for her. Instead, deciding to find a safe spot on a far wall just in case the princess was not in her formal attire—anything less was indecent for any male guard’s eyes.  
“Thank you, Huntsman. You may take your leave for the night.”

With another low bow, he took his leave graciously and closed the door. 

With a short nod from Regina, Emma slid the lock into place. The resulting soft snick made them both visibly relax. That was their gate to the rest of the world, the click signaling their escape—abdication from their daily, assigned, and expected roles. Here in the safety of Princess Regina’s private chambers—away from the scrutiny and judgment of critical eyes. Here, behind these walls, they could just be themselves. No princess and no knight. Just Regina and Emma. Two young spirits fighting for some joy and happiness in their life, if not for but just a few precious hours. 

After a few moments of awkward standing and staring, Regina finally spoke, much to Emma’s relief. “I’m sorry I called for you so late. You needn’t to have redressed, though.”

With a teasing grin, Emma responded, “With respect, Your Highness, a High Knight walking to her Princess’s chamber in the dead of night, in her underclothes, no less, would not have boded well for many, I’m afraid.”

Regina smiled and let out a short, nervous breath. “Of course. I see your meaning.”

Emma watched with bated breath as the younger woman rose from her elegant and ornately designed high back chair and walked over to her grand hand-carved four poster bed. Like all royal possessions, the intricately carved and sumptuous furnishings demanded one’s eyes—showcasing the lavish lifestyle only a fortunate few had the luxury of experiencing. But Emma couldn’t help but wonder if Regina favored such opulence. The four years spent in her presence gave Emma the impression the young princess favored the simple things in life. So often she and Emma would sit beneath her prized apple trees and talk of lighthearted matters, or take leisurely rides on her beloved horses, the latter of which always ended among the grasses as the pair looked to the heavens, identifying crowing birds or chirping insects nestled within their forest abode. Even when Regina groomed her horses and mucked her own stalls, heaven forbid Queen Cora ever catch word of such actions, she did it willingly and with life to her step and a hopeful gleam in her eyes. Emma knew Regina might be the one exception for royalty. She would be a great and just Queen. A rare Queen with a kind and forgiving heart that her subjects would surly grow to love and respect. That is, if someone didn’t break the beautiful woman before she could truly live, and by the markings constantly befitting her body, Emma feared it was only a matter of time.

Shaking herself from her thoughts, Emma cleared her throat and addressed her princess. “Your Highness—” but a swift hand had her stopping instantly.

“Please,” Regina whispered, “let us do away with the formalities. It is just us here. You are my only friend, and I would very much like to address you as such.”

“Very well, Reg—” she started, but as Regina’s hand descended back down to her side, Emma caught sight of a blotch of red at her wrist. “You’re bleeding!” Emma rushed out in a raged whisper. She dashed forward without asking and carefully grasped Regina’s blood-soaked hand. But when she pulled up the sleeve of her dress, no injury remained, just the crimson stain on the cloth.

Closing her eyes, willing back her enraged breaths, she summoned her courage to finally ask the princess an all too important question. “Who’s doing this to you, Regina?” she asked softly, but after no response, only the down turn of brown eyes, she pressed on. “One word from you and I’ll end this. They will never touch you again. Just tell me who they are.”  
“There’s nothing you can do, Emma. Just leave it be because not even my father can put an end to it.”

A sickening feeling roiled within the pit of her stomach. Of course … the Queen herself. It made perfect sense. Who else would dare cause a princess harm. But her own mother? The overbearing and tyrannical Queen ruled over her daughter much in the same way she controlled her subjects—with fear and pain. Her lips quivered with emotion. “Your mother does this to you?” she asked as fury burned bright within her. It broke her further to see such a loving and carefree woman reduced to a state of fear and self-loathing. To have her desires, wishes, and dreams stolen away so carelessly and thoughtlessly—her self-confidence and self-worth stepped on so viciously. Uncalled for and undeserving. 

Had it been a man, Emma would have taken a blade to his neck, but not before marking him in all the ways Regina had been marked—beating him within an inch of his life and then ending it at her will. She hated killing—despised it. She was a protector of lives, not a taker, but when someone abused another just for sport or out of pure meanness … that was something she couldn’t stand. Perhaps that view arose from her own experiences. She had bore witness to such people, encountered their wrath on many occasions. It was no way to live.

But because the bringer of Regina’s pain was no one other than her own mother, Queen to the Summerlands, there was little Emma could do to stop the abuse, and that sickened her.  
Cora would break her. That Emma was certain of. Regina neared her breaking point and Cora was one push away from sending her to the dark depths of the human soul. It took much to reduce a human to that state, and only the Gods knew how long Regina had suffered her abuse.

But no more. Not if Emma had anything to do about it. She would save this beautiful woman before her, even if it was the last thing she did.

“You should change,” Emma finally managed to say. Remembering how meticulous Regina was with her clothing and appearance, a trait Emma just imagined had been ingrained in her from the Queen. “Shall I call your servant?”

“No, that won’t be necessary. If you’ll help me, that is?” the princess asked, face blushing a light pink as she motioned to her excessively tight midsection—her corset.  
Emma swallowed nervously. Gods, she did not need this right now. Not after everything that had transpired. Not when her emotions were already at the surface, threatening to expose her. To see the princess in her under things, well … that would certainly be a new occurrence, that was for sure. Not unwelcomed, but perhaps difference circumstances would have made it … more.

“Of course,” she said quietly as she followed Regina over to her mirror and wardrobe. Holding her hand out, Regina grasped it and stepped onto her fitting platform.  
With shaking and clumsy hands, Emma began to untie the laces, slipping them from their eyelets as Regina regarded her shyly through the mirror.  
The corset gave inch-by-inch after each loosened strand, and soon, a sheer camisole was all that remained. Without her knowledge or permission, her fingers and hands took it upon themselves to brush over the smooth contours of her back. A soft gasp echoed her movements, but just as she jerked her hands away, she saw the faint outline of several reddened marks. Emma’s jaw clinched painfully.

“I thought your mother healed you?” she asked through gritted teeth. Not caring that she just spoke her knowledge of the healing. A fact the princess had never voiced before.  
Regina, who still held the corset to her front, shielding her breast from view, answered breathily. “Normally she does. But she didn’t completely this last time.”

“I should tend to these for you.”

“No,” she said quickly, “she would notice. Regardless, they don’t hurt anymore. That’s long since passed.” 

Again, without thought, Emma leaned forward and placed soft, barely there kisses against the very fine cloth covering each mark. The touches felt immensely intimate and both women found themselves getting lost in the connection. Never had they been this close before—this emotionally exposed before, but the comfort it brought each other was beyond words. 

“I’m sorry, Regina,” Emma whispered as she rested her forehead between Regina’s shoulder blades, placing stray kisses there as she spoke. “You shouldn’t have to suffer this.”  
Regina swallowed the dry lump in her throat and nodded softly. She felt strong hands caressing her back and sides. So much, she wanted to divest herself of the corset she currently held against herself, and lace her fingers with the one’s belonging to her protector and dear friend. How it would have grounded her—made her feel even more safe.

Instead, with graceful ease, Regina removed what remained of her dress, Emma turning while she slipped off her camisole and put on her nightgown that fell mid-calf.  
Emma heard soft footfalls retreating as the owner moved toward her opened balcony doors. Silently, Regina stood there, her back to the room, staring out into the night, yet never stepping foot out onto her terrace. Emma saw the sharp movements of her shoulders and the soft, yet sudden intakes of air. She was crying.

“R’gina,” Emma called to her, her voice breaking, causing the rarely spoken nickname to be uttered. 

“I’m to marry in a fortnight,” she began brokenly. “To the King of The White Kingdom … a man who’s old enough to be my father. Mother told me this past evening. Stupidly, I refused and this,” she said, indicating to her previously stained arm, “was my punishment.” 

She paused for a moment as she turned her head back to look at Emma. The contact was brief, but the young knight saw the torment in the equally young princess’s eyes. A look of anguish she longed to help rid her of. “I am nineteen and soon to be married to a King thrice my age. A marriage of obligation, not of love.”

“I despise her, my life, the King to whom I now belong to—nothing more than another trophy he can boast and tote around for all to see. I’m a prize to be had and he is the blustering victor. Mother says it is my duty—to marry and provide a future heir to a powerful kingdom. Carry on our legacy. But is it wrong not to want that life? To not desire all the things I was taught to appreciate and yearn for? To wish for love? An honest and true love that all the tales of the lands speak so highly of? I can’t even imagine what it would feel like to have a love such as that. I sit alone on this terrace at night and look to the heavens … pondering about how my life might have been different. Yearning for that life despite its impossible nature. I just wish so much—so desperately to be loved. Am I wrong to wish of such things?”

No. Emma wanted to say. No, you are not wrong to desire love. Everyone should have love and should be able to love freely. But she couldn’t voice such words. Those words would ultimately be a lie. This world did not allow such luxuries of the heart—did not permit basic instincts and desires. No, this life was cruel and unforgiving, and she refused to be yet another person to tell the princess untruths. 

“Speak your mind, Knight,” Regina finally said after the silence became deafening. “You are but the only one who dares to speak truthfully to me. My own mother even lies and manipulates me for her own benefit … and my father stands idly by and allows it. So, am I foolish?”

Emma took a steadying breath as her right hand flew up to the back of her neck, rubbing it nervously. “Foolish? No. Unrealistic … I dare say, yes. What you wish for … Regina, it can never be,” she said. Immediately, she wanted to revoke her words at the sight of Regina’s face going from reserved hopefulness to complete despair. “Love, even for people like me, is not an option. In this world, one’s name, legacy, and wealth, outweigh matters of the heart,” she added, allowing Regina the knowledge that she wasn’t alone in her struggles.  
“You speak from the heart … from experience. Do you not?” the princess asked. Emma bowed her head and looked away. “Did you love someone?”

“I did. At least … I think I did,” she said as her eyebrows furrowed in deep thought—confusion. “The longer time passes, the more it feels like … like it was just a vivid dream. One of those dreams full of life and color—like you wake up expecting it all to be real and then … nothing. Everything you imagined was just a silly dream. But it’s always the same dream—same images. But … I left her. Not willingly, of course. I had no choice in the matter. Didn’t even get to say goodbye,” she spoke softly as her voice cracked. “What’s worse is … she didn’t even know how I felt. Not that it would have mattered. I was a homely orphan, not worth my weight in salt, and she was this … handsome daughter of a miller. But she was … she was kind to me.”

“Her? You—you loved a woman?”

Emma laughed. “Yeah.”

They were quiet for several seconds as curious brown eyes studied emerald. They held no judgment, only the innate curiosity to understand and learn more about the woman before her. “Will you tell me of her?”

Emma smiled and nodded. “She was kind and gentle. A free spirit with the most beautiful and pure soul I’d ever seen, and when she loved, she loved with her entire being … almost to a fault, but … she was such a beautiful woman—inside and out. Like a goddess from the heavens, and when she smiled—Gods! When she smiled … she took my breath away. Pair that with her all-telling eyes and you could not breathe. You were just so entranced with her very presence. It wasn’t always like that though,” Emma said with a laugh disguised as a huff. “When I first met her, I believe she was disgusted with the sight of me. I mean … I couldn’t necessarily blame her. We would meet on the streets or at the market and she would look at me with a sneer and piercing eyes. But I later saw, she was like that with everyone. Almost like a cover because I could see something completely different in her eyes. They literally were like a window to her soul. I found she hurt—bore an incredible pain. Her mother abused her and her father died when she was young. But I … months went by and contempt changed to indifference, indifference changed to mutual respect, and respect eventually evolved into friendship and then love. Not a likely fairy-tale, but … I wouldn’t have changed anything because that was just her. It made her who she was and I loved every part of her..” 

Emma paused before she added softly, “You remind me so much of her. So much. I—I mean not being angry because that’s certainly not you, Princess. Y—you are anything but … but I meant everything else about her. ” She kept her eyes down turned, embarrassed with her outburst, and not daring to see Regina’s reaction.

“In what ways?” she whispered, a small grin on her face. She obviously enjoyed an embarrassed and flustered Emma. Perhaps the two women were one in the same, just different versions of the other. The idea was ludicrous, but in a way made sense. 

“In most every way imaginable,” Emma spoke in complete earnest, but as soon as she realized the implications of what she said, she quickly tried to make amends. “Forgive me, Your Highness. That was too bold and far too inappropriate words for me to have spoken to you—”

“Emma,” she whispered as she approached the fidgeting blonde. “Please never apologize for speaking such passionate words. I’ve … I’ve always longed for someone to speak so passionately about me, so dare not apologize or ever regret such words spoken for someone you love out of love.”

“I never should have insinuated—”

“What?” Regina asked, her eyes full of, dare Emma think it, hope … longing. “What?” she repeated more gently.

“You just remind me so much of her, and I loved her. Gods did I love her. Twelve years. She’s been gone twelve years and that woman I once loved is surely gone. The life I had with her is no more. I gave up that hope long ago, but the moment I walked through these halls to you … the first moment I spent with you, I knew I could love again.”  
“What are you saying?”

“I matters naught, Regina. Regardless of how I … just forget I spoke of such things.”

“I will do no such thing! Emma, please!”

“I care for you, Regina. The feelings I have for you are not feelings someone like me should ever have for someone like you—someone of royal heritage,” she amended quickly. “I’m a peasant by birth and to entertain such thoughts …”

“And what if I told you those same feelings are returned?” 

What? No … no, no surely she misheard. But she knew she did not. Regina expressed far too much with her whole being and everything about her screamed that she spoke the truth. Regina, the Princess of the Summerlands, just admitted to returned feelings for an orphaned knight. Emma’s heart felt elated yet ached at the same time. Why did her luck run so poorly? Had she found the possibility of love, yet a love that could never truly work in this cursed world? Yes, that would indeed be her luck.

“It wouldn’t matter, Regina,” Emma said sadly. “Not in the eyes of the kingdom—of your mother.”

“You’re a High Knight to a Princess. It is not that uncommon.”

“I’m also a woman—of low birth no less! They would hang me for touching you!”

Just Emma being a knight was rare. Women were not often granted such “unbecoming” roles, roles left to men. And heavens forbid love be shared between two women or two men. It took place, and to a degree accepted in select kingdoms, and mostly among the common people, but it certainly was not favored for those of noble birth. Gods! She would be hanged … or a sword placed upon her neck! Surely the princess would be safe from such actions, but still …

Regina shook her head and reached out for the young woman, fingers brushing against her checks before hands fully cupped them.

“Emma … my Knight,” she whispered, encouraging Emma’s terrified gaze to met her own. “Please look at me.”

A few seconds of struggle twisted upon the knight’s face, but once tearful eyes greeted Regina’s own, she smiled and continued. “You are far too harsh with yourself. You are so special and so very worthy. I do not care what word or honorific falls before or after your name. Those titles mean nothing to me. But you … you, Emma Swan, mean all the worlds to me. You’ve given light in my darkest of hours. You’ve allowed me to see hope. You are my savior … my white knight. And you did all of this by just being the loving, caring, kind, and selfless person that you are. You were the first to see me … not the Princess, the future Queen, the prospective suitor, just … me—Regina. You regarded me as the person I am … the young woman I desire to be with every ounce of my being. And I … and I’ve fallen in love with you. That is why I refused my mother’s orders. That is why I refused to marry the King. Because I love another and the thought of it being any other way makes my heart ache in ways I never imagined.”

“Regina … I do not wish to be the person to promise you things I know can never come to pass, regardless of how much I wish it wasn’t true. I wish I was the one who could bring you happiness and joy. I wish I could be the one to give you everything—your desires, your wishes, your dreams. I wish I could be the one at the end of the day as we lie in our bed after love making to whisper words of love and adoration into your ears—upon your flesh. I wish I was the one to wake up next to you, you in my arms—protecting you even as we slept. I want to give you a home and a family. But I have nothing to offer you.”

Regina closed the small distance between them, stroking pale cheeks softly, as she placed tender kisses against her forehead, across closed eyes, atop her nose, and against a strong and defined jaw. Then she stopped and encouraged striking emerald eyes to open. They breathed the same air, shared the same space, as Regina asked, “May I kiss you?”

No response was needed as Emma leaned into what space remained and kissed Regina. Ragged breaths followed by soft gasped echoed the other as lips moved tentatively together. The kiss was gentle and timid—an exploration of new sensations and emotions, meant to provide comfort, nothing more. But all the emotion flooded forth into the kiss carried with it a sense of intimacy. Intimacy that both craved furiously. Soft lips continued to brush the other as warm hands never ventured too far.

“You have everything, Emma. Everything.”


End file.
